All characters from "My Life as a Teenage Robot" are property of Rob Renzetti, Frederator, Nickelodeon – in other words, not me. My sole creation is the character of Drew, a human high school student who was turned into an shape-shifting android by Cluster nanotechnology (see my first story, "Android Scam"). To everyone who has ever left a review, a zillion thank-yous. You are the refill for my motivation tank; without ya, I'd be curled up in the fetal position, sucking my thumb. Or something like that.
So here's another light 'n' fun story – not the most original plot, but too fun not to write. Perhaps even a touch of unexpected fluff. Updating will probably be less regular on this one. What can I say? It's nice outside. The first chapter is a bit longer than normal; sorry, it's necessary to set up some plot elements.
One further note: I had to make several assumptions to make this story work, some of which may seem like a bit of a stretch. It's likely that future episodes of MLaaTR will contain new facts that contradict me. Nothing I can do about that. Nit-pickers will be given atomic wedgies. All I ask is for you to give me a little artistic license – it's all in good fun, and hopefully, everything will make perfect sense …
… in the course of time …
Tick. Tock. Tick. Tock. Tick. Tock. (fade in sounds of dozens of clocks ticking …)
WHACK TO THE FUTURE
A "My Life as a Teenage Robot" Fanfic
Chapter One – Tuck Everlasting
Mrs. Wakeman toke note of the time on her stopwatch, and scribbled intensely on her clipboard. She was eager to get the next round of tests started, with an excitement that only a scientist could feel for such a thing. With a few taps of her fingers, she called up a set of design schematics on her desktop computer terminal. They were for a very simple communications dish – but the interesting thing wasn't how the new dish was going to work. It was how the new dish was going to be built.
"Anytime you are ready, Andrew," she instructed. "This should be most interesting!"
"I'll try not to disappoint you, Doc." Drew stared at the electronic display, and could feel his mind digesting the raw engineering data. It felt a little weird; the information was being saved in his memory, yet he wasn't completely understanding it. The important thing was that his operating system knew what it was doing. It crunched the data, and sent out billions of instructions in under a second.
A shimmer of silver-green rolled along his left arm. His hand warbled momentarily, like a blob of mercury, and then started to expand with a soft schweerrrp. In a little under three seconds, Drew's hand morphed into a two-foot wide communications dish, chattering away silently.
"Reading you loud and clear," said Jenny. The teenage super-robot had unfolded one of her pigtails into a parabolic dish of her own, and pointed it at her android friend from the other side of her mother's laboratory. Drew and Jenny were carrying on a private little conversation, talking at thirty gigahertz. Jenny grinned, and then started to snicker uncontrollably.
"XJ-9!" barked Mrs. Wakeman. "Please focus, and give me the signal strength readings!"
"Ha, ha, ha … it's not my fault!" gasped Jenny. "Drew made me laugh!"
Drew grinned. "Scientific history! The first knock-knock joke ever told in binary language."
"I finally have someone to talk to in binary!" Jenny smiled back. "Your accent's pretty bad, though."
"When you two vaudevillians get a free moment," huffed the doctor, "do you think you might possibly give out some electromagnetic signal strength readings? Just to humor me?!?"
"Doc, lighten up a little!" laughed Drew. "The dish works great! We're just having a little fun."
"There are more important things in life than fun," she snorted.
"Oh, boy. You might as well stop right now, Drew," groaned Jenny. She folded her arms with a heavy sigh – her mother was in full-bore scientist mode right now. "I've heard this speech a hundred times before. When my mom's in the lab, everything's got to be super-serious. She turns everything into a crisis of galactic proportions."
Her mother planted her fists on her hips. "Well, one of has to be serious, young lady. If you would only perform your lab chores with the same devotion you give to telephone gossip …"
Thankfully, they were interrupted by a loud knock at the front door. Drew still felt pretty jazzed, with all the new tricks that Dr. Wakeman had taught him that afternoon. The communications dish at the end of his arm shimmered, and flattened out into a thin, flat panel. Then the index finger of his right hand started to stretch, longer and longer, until it had snaked its way over to the window. He pointed it towards the front door. A brief kaleidoscope of color danced across the panel, and then it came to life as a video screen, showing a picture of Brad and Tuck standing in front of the house.
Jenny excitedly let the neighbor boys in the house, as Mrs. Wakeman sighed in frustration. "Wonderful. That's all I need, two more of the Marx Brothers."
"Hey there, Jen! Mrs. W! Brought your mail in for you." Brad ambled into the living room holding a handful of letters, and the latest issue of Time Magazine. Then he gestured to Drew's video-screen. "Hey, Drew – aw, man, sweet! Since when have you been able to do that?"
"Just learned to do it today," he beamed proudly. "I can make a cell phone, a computer terminal … even had x-ray vision working for a few seconds. Next Super Bowl, I can be the big-screen TV! My nanobots can make themselves into almost anything electronic … as long as it doesn't have moving parts."
"Yet there is no scientific explanation for why you cannot make moving parts," interrupted Mrs. Wakeman. "So I can only assume it is a skill you will eventually acquire … with sufficient practice."
"Practice?" whined Drew. "Come on, Doc. We've been at it all afternoon. It's almost five o'clock!"
"And the late matinee at the theater starts at six o'clock," Brad interjected. "Jen, I was thinking you might like to go see a movie. You know that one you were talking about in class yesterday?"
Jenny's face broke into a wide smile. "'Summer of the Dancing Moonlight'? Oh, wow, I've been really wanting to see that one! Brad, I'd love to go!"
Tuck rolled his eyes in a knowing manner. "Uh-huh, yeah, right … sounds like a real action thriller."
Drew raised his hand to his nose, as if he were about to sneeze. "Ah … ahh … ahh … chickflick." Tuck started making mwa-mwa-mwa kissing noises, and soon they were both laughing themselves silly, ducking the rolled-up magazine that Brad swung at them.
"Will you all please settle down!" shouted Mrs. Wakeman, once again frustrated at the injection of chaos into her ordered workspace. "This is a scientific laboratory, not a rumpus room! And XJ-9, before you head off to watch some addle-minded, overemotional brain porridge at the cinema, aren't you forgetting about something? Hmmm? Something you promised to help me with?"
Jenny slapped her forehead. "Aw, Mom … you're not serious."
"I am always serious. In fact, I'm 'super-serious'. You just said so yourself, remember?"
"Who in the world does scientific experiments on a Saturday night?" she protested. "Besides nerds and losers and geeks. Er, uh … and you. Mom, regular teenagers go out on Saturday night!"
The doctor groaned. "I asked you earlier today if you had any plans for tonight, and you said no. I need your assistance for an extremely important series of tests here in the lab – tests which could prove to be of monumental importance to your crime-fighting activities!"
"Sure, whatever … but now I have plans for tonight, see?"
Mrs. Wakeman was getting dangerously close to a lecture. "What is so special about Saturday night, anyway? Saturday is just another day on the calendar. There is nothing that can be done at ten o'clock on a Wednesday that cannot be done at five o'clock on a Saturday. It's not like adolescents don't have six other days of the week to behave like barely-civilized hooligans!"
Brad sensed the tension rising as Jenny and her mother glared at each other, and tried to conjure up some quick diplomacy. "Come on, Mrs. Wakeman. It's been a long week; everybody takes Saturday off to relax and have some fun. It's a break from the pressure of high school."
"Pressure? Horsefeathers!" she huffed, folding her arms. Jenny rolled her eyes in agony – great, here we go – as her mother went into a rant. "You don't know the meaning of the word. Just wait until you have to work for a living! High school is a non-stop party compared to that. You should be trying to make productive use of your free time! Why, when I was your age, young lady, I didn't waste my leisure time 'hanging out', or running willy-nilly after boys down at the shopping complex. Not at all! We had to work hard to meet the challenges of a new millennium – to ensure we would have promising futures! We certainly didn't have all of the modern conveniences that you spoiled children enjoy today."
"Right, Mom," groaned Jenny, "you walked ten miles to school, in the snow, uphill, both ways."
"I'm simply saying that being young is no excuse for being irresponsible. You have your futures to consider, and your actions now could determine the course of your entire lives. After all, study and hard work is what made me a successful scientist today." She smirked with a motherly expression. "If I had behaved irresponsibly when I was your age, XJ-9, you wouldn't be here today. And …"
She walked over to the far end of her lab. "… neither would this."
Piles of equipment and half-finished projects had been pushed aside to make room for a large object, about the size and shape of a barrel, covered in a white dropsheet. Mrs. Wakeman patted the white cover with a contented smile on her face. "The Continuum Vortex Generator! If tonight's tests prove successful, then this evening will go down as watershed moment in the history of science! I cannot imagine anything happening in some dark movie theater that would be more exciting than this."
"Gee, now why doesn't that surprise me," Jenny muttered under her breath. Brad fought to keep his laughter in check.
"So what does it do?" asked Tuck, inspecting the cloth-covered mystery object.
"You will all find out, in due time," answered the doctor, chuckling to herself for some reason. "It does not have its power source installed yet. That should be arriving any time now, and once it does, we'll have things up and running in short order."
And as if on cue, they heard the sound of a large vehicle turning off of the street, and easing its way into the driveway of the Wakeman residence. Drew glanced out of the large living room windows. "Hey, Doc, there's a big white truck out there … from the University of Tremorton Physics Department."
"From the University? Oh, goody!" Mrs. Wakeman herded them all towards the front door. "Everybody outside! Come on, now! XJ-9, Andrew, if you both help, this will all go much quicker."
The five of them spilled outside, towards the white three-axle truck. Two elderly gentleman emerged from the cab, wearing white lab coats and rubber gloves; one was short, stocky with brown hair, the other was tall and gangly, with an unruly mop of gray. Mrs. Wakeman obviously knew them, and rushed over excitedly to discuss the evening's agenda. That left four unimpressed young people to mingle on the front lawn, wondering what could have the old folks so worked up.
"Sorry Jen, looks like we'll have to take a rain check on that movie," Brad said, flipping through the pages of the magazine. "You have any idea what this is all about?"
"Nope. Whatever it is, I'm sure it's going to be majorly boring." She folded her arms and pouted, mocking her mother's voice. "'When I was your age, young lady!' When she was my age, she probably took a horse and buggy to school. I don't think she ever was my age. She probably hatched right out of the pod, just like she is."
Drew burst out in a chuckle. "Come on, Jenny. So your mom's a little old-fashioned. Mine is too."
"A little old-fashioned?" Jenny lowered her voice to a loud whisper. "Do you guys have any idea how old my mom is? My mom is older than most people's grandmothers. She's eighty-five years old."
"EIGHTY-FIVE YEA…" Tuck managed to scream, before Brad slapped his hand over his mouth.
"Well, um … eighty-five isn't that old anymore," said Brad, trying to lessen Jenny's embarrassment. "Heck, with modern medicine, lots of people live to be really old! My great-grandma is 105, and she plays tennis every day. Look at the old woman in this magazine story!"
Jenny glanced at the photo of the silver-haired woman. "'Election 2074 coverage – Senator Clinton Under Fire. Just weeks after her 96th birthday, veteran senator Chelsea Clinton faces her greatest challenge … ' Blah, blah, blah. So my mom's not as old as some windbag politician."
Drew glanced over at Dr. Wakeman. "You know, Jen, this is going to sound nuts, but your mom looks awfully good for eighty-five. I mean, she's not wrinkled up, sitting in a wheelchair or anything."
"I know," sighed Jenny, "like Brad said, people live longer nowadays. Mom has another professor friend at the university who's still teaching classes, and he's 126 years old. He came over for a visit last month. Oh yeah, let me tell you … that was a fun evening."
"Hey, check it out," shouted Brad, tapping at the magazine. "It's a story about you, Jenny! 'Titanium Teen Topples Terrorists'. It's all about when you saved that space station last week!"
"Huh! Lemme see." Jenny quickly scanned the story, which was mostly positive …
Then winced as her mother's voice shouted to her from the driveway. "XJ-9! There are two gentlemen here I'd like you to meet!"
With her friends in tow, she dragged her feet over to the big white truck, and tried to put a polite smile on her face. As she looked at the two old men, Jenny suddenly realized that she knew one of them – the short fellow with the dark, ragged beard and round glasses.
Mrs. Wakeman presented her daughter. "XJ-9, you remember Dr. Phinneas Mogg, don't you?"
She fought the urge to give him a nasty look. What was it he'd said … 'How did you manage to program so many defects into only one automaton?' Grrrr … "Sure, I remember Dr. Mogg. From the trade show. You're one of my mom's old classmates, aren't you?"
Dr. Mogg adjusted his glasses with a snicker. "Quite right. So, Nora … it's still calling you 'Mom'?"
But before Jenny could get too upset, the tall fellow shot out his thin hand with a big smile. "Actually, I'm one of your mother's old classmates as well. Amazing! Simply amazing! Miss XJ-9, I've been waiting to meet you for a long time. Quite a remarkable young girl you have there, Nora."
Jenny gave him her best charming smile. "Thank you very much … um …"
"Dr. Sherman Lee," he grinned. "I believe you go to high school with my grandson."
"Really? What's his name … wait a minute!" Jenny was suddenly struck with the answer. "Lee? Your grandson is Sheldon?!?"
"That's right," Dr. Lee beamed with pride. "Such a bright young lad. Quite adept in the sciences. Runs in the family, you know!"
Mrs. Wakeman couldn't contain her enthusiasm any longer. "All right, that's quite enough. Let's get started, everyone! XJ-9, Andrew, there is a very important package to carry into the house."
The two robot teenagers shrugged their shoulders at each other, and followed the doctor around to open the rear door at the back of the truck. From the way it sat low on its axles, it was obviously very heavily loaded. Jenny's mood grew a bit fouler, imagining the piles and piles of boxes she would have to carry inside. Finally, the doctor twisted the release, and the door slid open …
Revealing only two items – a small yellow box about the size of a toaster, and a large steel rectangular container … almost shaped like a coffin. The thought sent a shiver down Jenny's spine.
"I'll get the big one, Jenny." Drew unfastened the cargo cables on the big steel box, and slid it out easily, morphing his body to carry the box flat on his back. He trotted over to the lawn on all fours, looking like a walking silver coffee table – and drawing astonished stares from Doctors Mogg and Lee.
But the truck still sat low on its axles for some reason. Jenny nonchalantly grabbed the little yellow container – and found that it wouldn't budge. Curious, she gave it a harder tug, then finally had to pull with both of her mighty arms just to lift it up. As soon as she did, the truck lunged upwards several inches, its springs groaning with relief. Jenny felt a bit silly, as she staggered towards the house, struggling to carry a container the size of a lunch box. It felt like she was carrying a dozen elephants.
Mrs. Wakeman scratched her chin. "I only expected the university to send over one container. What's in the other one?" She pointed to the large steel box that Drew had just set down.
Drew flowed back to his normal form, and casually looked over the labels on the box as he dusted his hands together. "Let's see … 'Property of University of Tremorton Physics Department', 'Handle With Care', and … 'Danger – Lethal Radioactivity'."
Drew, Brad, and Tuck all jumped back from the box at the same time, with looks of horror on their faces. "Lethal Radioactivity!?! Holy schnikey, Doc! What are you doing with this stuff?!?"
"Relax, relax," laughed Dr. Lee. "The container is fully shielded to guard against any leakage. Don't worry, it's perfectly safe. It's just some support equipment that we'll need later on. Besides, it's not nearly as dangerous as what's in … that box." He grinned at Jenny with a pair of mischievous eyes.
Jenny looked down at the little yellow box in her hands, suddenly growing concerned. "In this box? What's in this box, then?"
Her mother smiled proudly. "An artificial black hole."
"A BLACK HOLE!?!" Jenny's robotic jaw nearly fell off of her face; the boys were just as stunned as she was. "What in the world are you going to do with a black hole?"
"What indeed," answered Mrs. Wakeman, enjoying the astonishment on their faces …
None of them expected the loud crack that roared from the direction of the house. Everyone flinched in shock as a blinding white light pulsed through the large windows of Mrs. Wakeman's laboratory, followed by a roar like a cannon shell, and a mighty whoosh of air. Mrs. Wakeman's eyes grew wide with concern; at any time, she had several high-energy experiments running in her lab, and she feared the worst.
"For the love of Oppenheimer … what now?!?" The doctor raced towards the front door, with the two university professors hot on her heels. "Come along, XJ-9. And bring that black hole with you."
They got to the front door, Mrs. Wakeman flung it open … and nearly crashed into Tuck, who was running around in circles, flailing his little arms in panic – and babbling incoherently.
Mrs. Wakeman ground her teeth in irritation. "Tucker, I have told you and your brother on occasions too numerous to catalog – stay out of my lab. Especially when I am not present in it!"
Tuck stared up at her in sheer terror. "But where did I – how did you – but you were just – AAIIIGHHH!" Then he bolted outside, screaming at the top of his lungs. Jenny didn't pay him much attention, as she strained to hold up the little yellow box. But something had seemed strange, even for Tuck …
The doctor shook her head in frustration, grumbling out loud. "Well, everything appears to be in order – if a bit messy. The little ragamuffin probably knocked over a high-discharge capacitor. Wouldn't be the first time," she sighed. "Well, Doctor Mogg, Doctor Lee … let's get down to business, shall we?"
She walked over the dropsheet-covered experiment sitting at the far end of the laboratory. Dr. Wakeman composed herself, enjoying her little moment of theater. She pulled the white dropsheet away like a stage performer. "Distinguished colleagues, I give to you … the Continuum Vortex Generator!"
The professors gasped in disbelief, but Jenny was unimpressed. It really looked just like an oversize steel barrel, with large rings fixed around the outside, perched on three metallic legs. Most of its surface was covered with blinking lights and small computer readouts. There were several knobs and dials, but the most prominent one was a large red pushbutton on the side of the machine.
Mrs. Wakeman twisted a release, and the top of the barrel opened up, revealing a round, empty chamber inside. At her mother's instruction, Jenny opened the small yellow box, and converted her right arm into a lifting crane. She pulled out a shiny metallic cylinder, no bigger than a thermos, which contained the black hole. No longer surprised by its heaviness, she guided it over the Vortex Generator, and slowly slid it inside, until they could hear the support legs creak and groan from the newly added weight.
With the push of a button, the machine suddenly hummed to life, and its displays lit up with dazzling energy. A soft whine emanated from the steel barrel, increasing in pitch as the power output of the machine grew. It sounded like a muffled jet engine, spooling up to full thrust. Then the entire Generator shuddered slightly, and floated a few inches in the air under the power of its anti-grav gyros.
"Now, a few quick adjustments, and we can begin," said Mrs. Wakeman. "I guarantee that none of you have ever seen anything like this before!"
"Uh, Mom? I have," said Jenny.
Her mother gave her a perplexed look, but Jenny just pointed to the other side of the lab.
Where a second Continuum Vortex Generator was silently floating.
Mrs. Wakeman's glasses nearly fell off her face. "Heavens to Heisenberg! Where did that come from?"
Tuck blinked his eyes, still dazzled from the bright light and deafening sound. He jumped up and ran around the lab in circles, flailing his little arms in a panic – then the front door swung open, and there stood Mrs. Wakeman, grinding her teeth in irritation.
"Tucker, I have told you and your brother on occasions too numerous to catalog – stay out of my lab. Especially when I am not present in it!"
Tuck stared up at her in sheer terror. "But where did I – how did you – but you were just – AAIIIGHHH!" Then he bolted outside, screaming at the top of his lungs. He rushed past Jenny and the other two old professors, eager to get as far away as he could from the weirdness in the lab. Frazzled and disoriented, he babbled incoherently and clutched at his thick black hair, looking for his favorite hiding place – the back of his big brother's pant leg. At least Brad was still where he was supposed to be, standing with Drew next to the big weird silver box on the front lawn.
"Brad! Brad! I'm sorry!" he shouted frantically, as he glommed onto Brad's khakis. "I pushed the big red button and there was lights and noise and more lights and BOOM and I didn't do anything and I promise never to do it again!"
"Whoa there, Tiger!" said Brad, shaking his head at his pitiful younger sibling. "You're making even less sense than usual. Now just try to slow down and tell me what you were doing in Mrs. W's lab. Did you break something? 'Cause if you did, Dad is gonna freak out. The last time you broke …"
"Wh-wh-what are you talking about?" squeaked a pathetic little voice. "I wasn't in Mrs. Wakeman's lab. I'm out here with you guys."
Brad and Drew turned to see … Tuck, hiding behind the large silver container from the university.
One Tuck hiding behind the container. One Tuck clinging to Brad's pant leg.
Drew managed to get his mouth working first. "T-t-two Tucks?"
Tuck peeked up over the lid of his hiding place, coming face to face with … himself.
"AAAAAAIIIIIGGGGGHHHHH!!!!" both Tucks shrieked in unison.
Pantleg-Tuck wrapped his arms around Brad's legs in a death-grip, while Hiding-Tuck ran around in circles on the front lawn. "Evil clone! Mrs. Wakeman made an evil clone and it's escaped and it's gonna suck out my brain and it's gonna turn me into a zombie! AAAIIIGHHH!!!!"
Brad was desperately trying to keep his cool. "Tuck! I mean, Tucks! Calm down! I'm sure there's a … eh … perfectly logical explanation for this!"
"Easy for you to say – you're not going to get your brain sucked out! HAAALLLP! Stay back, clone!" Tuck sprinted for the house, near hysteria. "Gotta get Mrs. Wakeman to deactivate it!"
He flung open the front door, his little chest heaving in panicked breaths, to see Dr. Wakeman staring at the far side of her lab. She wore a bewildered expression – as if her glasses were about to fall off of her face.
"Heavens to Heisenberg! Where did that come from?" she gasped.
"Mrs. Wakeman! Mrs. Wakeman! HELP!" shrieked Tuck. "You gotta stop your clone!"
"Stop my WHAT?" said the doctor, growing more confused by the second.
Drew burst through the door, followed by Brad … who was holding another Tuck in his arms, shivering like a Chihuahua.
Jenny, the professors, and Mrs. Wakeman rubbed their eyes in disbelief.
"AHHH!!! You're not sucking out my brain!" Tuck turned to run, but tripped over his feet and stumbled a few steps across the lab, bumping against the Continuum Vortex Generator. Off-balance and out of control, Tuck swung his arms through the air, trying to grab onto anything to keep from falling down … and smacked his hand on the large red button on the side of the Generator.
An otherworldly light flooded the laboratory with bizarre colors. Tuck grabbed on tight to a pair of handholds on the side of the Generator, paralyzed with terror. The whine of high-energy machinery filled the room, and suddenly the skin of the Generator crackled with a glowing aura. A brilliant donut of white light shot out of the top of the barrel, expanding to hover a few feet over the machine and Tuck. Then the donut rushed towards the floor, filling everyone's ears with a screech and a crack of thunder – and with a blinding flash, Tuck, and the Continuum Vortex Generator, simply disappeared. A blast of wind rushed through the lab to fill the remaining void, scattering dozens of papers into the air.
Jenny and Drew stared at the empty space in total astonishment, and Brad was in a state of near-shock. "Mrs. Wakeman, what … what the heck just happened?!?"
The doctor stared silently for a few seconds, but the confusion was gone from her face – and it had been replaced by a triumphant smile. "Oh, my … gentlemen, we have just witnessed a self-sustaining causality loop … amazing! Absolutely amazing!"
"What does that mean, Doctor W?!? What happened to my little brother?"
She clasped her hands behind her back. "Why, he's right in your arms, Bradley."
She walked over and patted the second Vortex Generator. "You see, I had just finished setting the initial parameters for the first test run of my Continuum Vortex Generator – or, to use layman's terms – Time Machine. The Time Machine was set to go two minutes into the past, and it was a complete success! Tuck appeared in the lab two minutes ago, and ran outside while we installed the black hole in the Generator. Then when the original Tuck saw his double from the future, he became afraid, and he ran back in the lab, just in time to activate the Time Machine – thus beginning his journey two minutes into the past!"
The little fellow was still blinking in confusion, as Mrs. Wakeman shook his hand with a playful chuckle. "Congratulations, Tucker! You've just become the world's first time traveler."
Continued in Chapter Two